


Home is where your pillow is

by badwolfbadwolf



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Cock Rings, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Phone Sex, Sex Toys, bottom!Bond, top!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/pseuds/badwolfbadwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q gets toppy while James is away.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Are you at home or at the office?" James asks as he lets his hand trail along his throat in a teasing sweep, imaging Q's fingers instead.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"I ask the questions."  James smirks at that. Q can have an impertinent streak, sometimes a dominant one. Particularly when James is away. He thinks Q likes the complete control. Not like he minds, really.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Alright."  James slides his fingers down the tie. "Can I..." he begins before trailing off and feeling like an idiot.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Q laughs, the colour a little dark. "What did I just say, James?  You're not very good at following orders, are you?"</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>James shifts and huffs. Yes he is. But he doesn't say anything.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is where your pillow is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_xmasmurder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to the wonderful, fantastic, amazing Monster!!!!! All the hearts and hugs for you.

"Now, Bond," Q says. His voice is steady over the line, crisp and soft at the same time. "Tell me what you're wearing."

"Really, Q. That's how you're starting this."

"Shut up and tell me."  James purses his lips but looks down at himself. He's spread out on the hotel bed, the room dark save for one sad lamp spilling yellow light through the dingy room.

"Blue suit. The one I wore last Christmas that you said complemented my eyes."  

Q's eye roll is nearly audible and James hears a flutter of fabric over the line. "And the tie?"

"Navy."

"Be a little more descriptive, love. Use your words."

James tugs at his collar, Q's voice sliding over him like a caress of fingertips. "Tight around my throat. Silk. I've untucked my shirt."

"And are you hard for me?"

"Of course."

"Good."

There's some quiet and more rustling over the line, and James wonders what exactly Q is doing.

"Are you at home or at the office?" James asks as he lets his hand trail along his throat in a teasing sweep, imaging Q's fingers instead.

"I ask the questions."  James smirks at that. Q can have an impertinent streak, sometimes a dominant one. Particularly when James is away. He thinks Q likes the complete control. Not like he minds, really.

"Alright."  James slides his fingers down the tie. "Can I..." he begins before trailing off and feeling like an idiot.

Q laughs, the colour a little dark. "What did I just say, James?  You're not very good at following orders, are you?"

James shifts and huffs. Yes he is. But he doesn't say anything.

"Tell me where you want my hands."  Q's voice is firm with command, but not sharp. James lets his hands wander, thinking for a moment.

"Holding my jaw, my neck as you kiss me. Light little teases with licks before kissing deep."

"Mmhmm," Q intones. He doesn't say anything more so James continues.

"And then pressing against me, sliding down, unbuttoning my shirt."

"Do it, then."  

James does, unhinging each button carefully.

"Leave the tie."

It hangs loose around his throat, the silk smooth against his skin as he draws back the shirt so it spreads open.

"What else do you want?"  Q sounds a little breathier and James swallows, imagining what the man is doing.

"For you to scrape your nails over me, down over my chest, making it hurt."

Q chuckles warmly. "You like that don't you?"

James sighs out an agreement, twisting his fingers against a pink nipple and arching his hips slightly. "Yes."

"What else do you like?"

"I like it when you roll me over. Sink your teeth in. When you're rough."

"Is that what you want tonight, James?  Do you want me to be rough?"

James thinks about it as he teases his nipple. He feels his cock straining in his trousers, the seam uncomfortably tight against his length. He doesn't touch yet, though; Q hasn't told him he can.

"Yes," he decides, finally.

"You do look so pretty when you're bent over. Such a gorgeous arse. Always so desperate for it. Desperate to be filled up.  Aren't you, love?"

James grunts and slides his hands across his stomach, feeling the muscles jump.  He brushes through the light hair that trails through his navel, making idle swipes with his nails.

"I want an answer when I ask you a question."

The harsh tone wakes James wake from his lust-induced haze and he blinks, refocusing his mind. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"  Q's voice is brusque, all business.

"Yes, please."  There's a long moment where James tenses, wondering if Q is displeased with him.

"Not yet. I won't give it to you ‘til you beg."

James groans at Q’s words and shifts on the bed, wanting to ask for more but remaining dutifully silent.

"Get the cock ring. And the toy. The black one."

James gets up immediately, retrieving the items from his case and sitting back down on the bed. They rest heavy in his hand and he bites his lip, feeling excitement fluttering through his stomach.

"Did you do it?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Clothes off. Pants, everything. No touching."  James leaps to obey and tosses it all in a messy pile on the floor. He'll get the suit dry cleaned later.

"Cock ring on. Slide it over that gorgeous cock of yours. I bet it's just red and leaking, isn't it?"

James grunts as he follows the order, not sure if the question is rhetorical. "Yes," he says anyways.

"Good.  How does it feel?"

"Like I'm about to explode."

Q does laugh at that, and James can just imagine him on their bed, cheeks flushed red, hair messy, glasses askew.

"Now what do you want?  On your back for me or on your stomach?  Do you want to wag that arse or pull your legs back and show it all to me?"

James thinks about it, debating momentarily. He likes it on his back so Q can angle in deep and lave lazy kisses against his neck and collarbone. But pressed face first into the mattress, vulnerable and open and just waiting for it?  That also has its merits.

"Stomach," he says finally, and Q lets out an approving noise.

"Roll over for me, love. Hands and knees."

James obliges, shifting the phone so it is resting on the sheet next to his head. He organizes his limbs beneath him and arches back like a cat, desperately wishing Q was there and not just his voice.  Though it really is a beautiful voice, like honey and tea.  The soft tone contrasts with Q’s well-chosen words, making them ring out with a bite.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," James replies. He's growing impatient as the minutes tick by. Q is going slow, so slow, and James is feeling his cock swelling beneath him, trapped in the ring. "Please," he finally says after Q just makes him wait.

"Please what?"

James grits his teeth. He hates when Q makes him say it, makes him spell it out. He just wants to be fuck, just wants Q to hurry the fuck up. He lets out a frustrated groan before finally getting out,  "Please fuck me."

"I don't think you're ready yet."  

James whines, high and needy. "Please, Q. I just need to... touch myself.  Just, something.  Anything."

"You need my fingers first?"

James nods quickly before remembering Q can't see him. "Yes. Yes, good, please now."

"Careful, love," Q tuts.  “I don't like it when you're demanding."

James is silent, sliding his weight from his palms to his knees and pushing backwards into nothing, growing desperate for Q’s touch and Q’s words and Q’s praise.

"Just one finger. Just the tip. Slick it up first."

James scrambles with the lube, kneeling up and pouring out a copious amount in his haste. It drips down his fingers and over his palm as he moves his hand backwards. He pushes against himself, feeling the tight clench of flesh part as he wriggles in just the tip of his index finger as Q had instructed.

"There," Q sighs, as if he is the one with his finger in James’ arse.

James struggles to keep still, his frustration mounting. He listens to Q's deep breathing and rhythmic rustling, certain the man is jacking off while he waits, frozen and aching.

"Please, Q," James says again, letting his exasperation colour his tone.

"I don't believe that's begging yet, love."

James grits his teeth, wiggling his finger slightly against his rim even though he doesn't have permission.

"Stroke your cock. Feel it pulse, just for me. Feel it tied up, waiting for me to wrap my hand around it, wrap my tongue around it. Can you imagine that?"

James is sweating now, his cock twitching in his hand, his stomach leaping as he twists his wrist. His head is pressed down fully onto the mattress now, strain creeping through his body as his weight is spread across his shoulders and neck.

"God, Q. I need..."  He bites off the rest, not wanting to anger Q but beginning to grow desperate.

"What do you need, love?"

"Your fingers inside. Need you to stretch me so you can ride me hard."

"Mmmm, alright. Why didn't you say so?"

Bond growls, plunging his finger deep and mewling out as his body clenches. He wiggles it back and forth, muscles flexing around the digit, wanting so much more.

"Add another. Quickly now. Need to fuck you."

James obeys, the second finger thick but sliding in easily. He's so tight and wound up, Q's clinical voice slowly driving him insane.

"Stretch yourself. I want you taking it soon."

James tugs in each direction, taking deep breaths to will his muscles into relaxation. It's hard because he's so keyed up.

"Now the toy. Slick it up."  

James has to take his fingers out so he can have two hands available.  He scrunches up his brow, coating up the toy liberally with the lube before sliding back into his prone position.  He holds the toy right up against him and the tip slides wetly over his hot skin.  He groans with anticipation.

"Push it in, just a little. Feel you stretch around me. Feel just the head of my cock on your rim."

The toy slides in easily and James feels his body spread and take it in.  It stretches and burns, much larger than his fingers but not quite as thick as Q’s cock.  It’s been a long time since he’s done this, too long, but the burn is pleasant, the slight pain welcome.

"That's it. Open up, love. Spread open for my cock. Take it all."

Q is making little grunting pants and James imagines him draped over his body, the fringe of his hair falling down into his eyes as he thrusts forward.

"Fuck yourself slowly back on it. How does it feel, James?  Is it big enough for you?  Is it good enough for you?"

"Yes," and then "no," and then a confused sob comes from James' lips.  The build-up has him tense and shuddering, and the dildo is too big, too unyielding.  He feels an ache through his body, a deep burning fire leaping up from the base of his cock and making him too-hot all over.  "Please, Q. I need to come."

"Work your hips. Faster. Ride it. Ride it til you're crying."

James does, the tears pricking at his eyes, his cock leaking profusely and slapping against his stomach with each hard thrust.

"Please, please please please Jesus fuck."

"Ok, ride that cock hard, baby. Reach underneath."

James does, tenses, grows hopeful.

"Hands over your bollocks. Tug."

James cries out then, real tears starting to form.

"Have you been good, James?  Did you perform well for me?  Should I let you come?"

James sobs brokenly now. "Yes, please, please Q."  He sounds absolutely wrecked, his body shuddering, arse clenching around the toy as he keeps working it in. “I need to come.”

“You sound so desperate for it.  I bet your hole is just swallowing up that dick.  And wishing it was me, wishing it was my cock filling you up.  Wishing it was my hands on your neck, pinning you down and just pounding away in your tight arse.”

James follows Q’s words, his wrist cramping from the repeated strokes, his body twisting in a  mix of pleasure and pain that edges through his blood and makes it boil.  

“Alright, love.  You’ve suffered enough.”

James sighs in audible relief, slowing down the thrusts of the dildo and reaching up preemptively to stroke along his cock.  He quivers with full body shakes, hand poised over the cock ring, just waiting for Q’s word.

“Ok, you can take it off now.  I want you to fuck yourself as you’re coming.  Think of me fucking you hard, riding you through it hard, not easing up for even a second.”

James lets out the most undignifed, strangled noise that he’s ever heard as he releases the cock ring.  He comes immediately, his body stiffening straight and his eyes pressed so tight he can see fuzzy stars behind his eyelids.  It feels hot, so hot all over, his skin too-tight and too-warm.  The feeling shoots across his skin and his come is warm and sticky all over his stomach and the sheets.  He fucks himself slowly through it, not really obeying Q’s words but too absolutely exhausted to do anything more than lazy thrusts.

When he’s finished he falls to the side of the bed, arse still clenching around the toy and body sweaty and tacky with come.  He eases it out, wincing at the odd sensation of being so empty.  It takes a full minute to slow his breathing, and he listens to Q’s movements on the line and wonders if the man had come as well.

Q waits until James’ breath is even before saying, “I’m putting you on your back as soon as you return.  I’m going to lick right into you until you come just from that.”

James groans as his body twitches all over in reaction to Q’s filthy mouth.  “What are you doing to me, Q?”  His exasperation is mostly feigned though, and he feels warm and slack-jawed and boneless.

“I thought I said no questions, James,” Q says, but his tone is breathless and light again.  James imagines him smiling down, blinking at him through his thick-rimmed glasses.  He suddenly has an ache to pull Q down to him, kiss him, hold him tight.

“Miss you,” James says softly.  And he does miss Q.  The time away, the dirty hotel rooms, the coffee in styrofoam cups and waiting for secure mobile connections is grating.  He feels old in his bones.  Too old for this.  

“I’ll see you soon,” Q says, voice just as quiet.  They are silent for a moment, listening to each others breathing and the slight buzz of static on the line.

James wants to say more, the words hanging right at the tip of his tongue.  They stick there, though, too large and frightening, and the moment passes.  He stares at his toes, promising himself that he’ll say it next time.  Next time, when Q is in his arms and he’s pressing kisses to that soft jaw and the little mole right there on his cheek.  Next time he’ll say the words he can’t quite seem to get out.

“Good night, Q.”

“Good night, James.”

James presses the button on his phone to end the call and falls back against his pillow.  He pulls the sheet over him and curls up his body, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles and joints.  He likes it though, likes what Q does to him.  He pulls the other pillow close to his body and breathes deeply.  He misses his own pillow.  He misses the smell, the softness.  But mostly he misses Q, curled up next to him and smiling faintly.  It takes him a while to drift off, but he finally does, dreaming of being home for once in his life.

  



End file.
